


Demons, Drive-Ins, and No Pie (OR: How the Inherently Evil Nature of Plastic Wrap Finally Helped Dean Get a Clue)

by solomonara



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Get together fic, Humor, M/M, matchmaker!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 02:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2634842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solomonara/pseuds/solomonara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam has ulterior motives, Cas fails at basic food storage techniques, and Dean is once again thwarted in his attempts to acquire pie (but ends up with something better).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demons, Drive-Ins, and No Pie (OR: How the Inherently Evil Nature of Plastic Wrap Finally Helped Dean Get a Clue)

**Author's Note:**

> This one is set just after Soul Survivor (10.03)

**Demons, Drive-Ins, and No Pie**

_or_

**How the Inherently Evil Nature of Plastic Wrap Finally Helped Dean Get a Clue**

 

The neon had fizzled out in a few letters, turning a bright pink-and-blue sign for a DRIVE-IN into a somewhat more ominous D I E-IN.

That, Dean would reflect later, should have been enough to make him keep driving. The way his life tended to go, he should've known by now that bad omens really did happen. Usually to him. But this was an honest-to-God drive in, with waiters and waitresses on skates and a sharply angled, neon-trimmed roof and everything. The sign in the window proclaiming "HOMEMADE PIE!" sealed the deal.

"Dean," Cas said as Dean pulled into a space. "Sam sent us for food."

"What do you think this is, a car wash? This place has food."

"I believe his intent was that we go grocery shopping."

Dean scoffed, though he knew perfectly well that a grocery run had been Sam's "intent." Ostensibly cured of demonhood, Dean had knocked around the bunker for a few days growing increasingly restless. When Sam announced that they really needed to restock the kitchen, he had volunteered immediately. Sam was up to his elbows in pointless research anyway. Despite Dean's assurances that he felt fine, Sam was determined to find out how worried they needed to be about the Mark acting up or Dean relapsing.

Cas was no help there. He had stuck around the bunker after a hasty, heated discussion with Hannah that resulted in her flying off in what Sam called "a fit of pique" while Dean was still confined to his room immediately following his cure. Cas didn't say what they'd discussed, only that he felt being at the bunker to assist Sam was more important than whatever he'd been doing with Hannah. But despite Cas's millennia of experience, nothing precisely like this had ever happened before, and he couldn't do much to help predict what might happen next.

Nevertheless, it was to Cas that Sam turned when Dean offered to make the supply run.

"What do you think?" he'd asked.

"He _has_ been very even-tempered these past few days," Cas said.

"I'm standing right here, guys," Dean groused. He could practically read the thoughts as they crossed Sam's mind: Was Dean really cured? Could he afford to take time away from research to babysit him on a shopping trip? Would it be a terrible idea to call a pizza delivery guy to the top-secret Men of Letters bunker?

Apparently, Cas got the gist of Sam's thoughts as well. "If you're uncertain, I could go myself while you remain here with Dean," he said.

"Uh - no. That's all right," Sam said, maybe just a hair too quickly. "Although..." Sam crossed his arms and his eyes took on a calculating glint as they shifted slowly between Dean and Cas. "You know what? Why don't you both go."

"Sam, you know I'm not at full power," Cas said, shaking his head.

"And you won't need to be!" Dean cut in. "C'mon guys, what do you want me to do, bathe in holy water? I'm clean!"

Cas looked like he was about to say something but Sam dropped one hand on Cas's shoulder and the other on Dean's and steered them toward the garage. "I know. I trust you," he said. "Both of you. Now get." He gave them a gentle shove in the right direction and turned back to his books, discussion ended.

Which was probably why Cas was looking slightly sullen about the fact that they were now parked at a random drive-in about to acquire the antithesis of the sort of food Sam had sent them for. Cas stared petulantly out his own window while Dean rolled down the driver's side to talk to a roller-skating waitress. He could tell by the way Dean's vowels lengthened, mellowing his voice and enhancing his accent, that he found the woman attractive. Cas glanced in her direction out of curiosity, then inhaled sharply when he saw her face.

"Dean!" Cas flung out an arm, shoving Dean back in the driver's seat while his other hand fumbled in the glove box for a flask of holy water. He was too slow, though. The waitress's eyes flicked to black and her sweet smile turned to a sneer as Cas heard the glass of the passenger window shatter behind him. Dean's warning shout came too late, and Cas was hauled through the Impala's window by a second roller-skating demon waitress.

Dean growled and jabbed an elbow into the first demon's face as she reached through the open window to grab him. When she fell back, he threw the heavy, solid steel door of the Impala open, knocking her off balance on her skates. The demon went down hard, and Dean was up and out of the car, sprinting to the trunk for a weapon because all he had on him was a regular gun. He forced down the moment of blinding rage toward Sam for _giving away_ the freaking First Blade and had just managed to unlock the trunk when the demon he'd knocked over tackled him from the side with all the ferocity of a roller derby blocker.

Dean went down with a grunt and tried to roll, but the demon was straddling him. He went for his gun - at least it would slow the thing down - and the demon hit him, hard. His head hit the asphalt and his vision went fuzzy as the demon wound up for another punch.

Before she could hit him again, though, light flared under her skin and the tip of a silver blade protruded from her chest. She fell to the side, revealing a slightly out-of-breath Cas offering Dean a hand up. He accepted it and went immediately back to the trunk, noting in passing that the demon who had attacked Cas also had a fatal stab wound.

"There are more," Cas said, keeping watch while Dean armed himself with a sawed-off and one of the spare angel blades they kept in the trunk.

"Of course there are," Dean said, looking up. Several demons were running (or skating depending on who they'd possessed) from the main building of the drive-in, where the kitchen was housed. An engine roared as an enormous panel van skidded into place across the exit to the parking lot. They were stuck.

Dean assessed the situation in an instant. He had one half-powered angel, who really shouldn't be using what grace he had, and himself against three skating demons (one waitress, two waiters), the manager, and the cook. Two more demons were getting out of the van that had blocked the exit. Dean passed another shotgun to Cas.

"All right, here's the plan."

 

*

 

The last demon died with a shriek and Dean collapsed against one of the counters in the drive-in's kitchen, exhausted and bloody. He slid to the floor, legs splayed out in front of him, and didn't hold back a groan as Cas peered out the porthole-style window in the swinging kitchen door to make sure there were no more coming.

The place was a shambles. His poor Baby was smashed through the doors to the drive-in's small counter-service area. Salt and blood mixed on the floor where a trail of demon husks showed how Cas and Dean had slowly lost ground as they were pushed back into the kitchen - the kitchen that was, luckily, stocked with plenty of salt. It was perfect for a last stand, and they'd taken the demons out one by one, though not without incurring injuries of their own.

Cas had several small cuts and contusions that didn't seem to bother him much at all. No, Dean was more concerned with the way he seemed out of breath and just plain... _weary_. Dean himself had taken a few hits, but what pained him most was the deep gash in his upper arm from some blade or another. It wasn't life-threatening - yet - but it _was_ bleeding profusely and seemed to show no sign of stopping. Moving his left arm was an exercise in pain suppression. Instinctively, he covered the bleeding gash with his other hand, hoping maybe to stem the flow of blood a little. He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth when the salt on his hand got in the wound and Cas was at his side instantly.

Cas's gaze lingered on the blood welling between Dean's fingers and dripping down his arm and he only paused half a second before reaching out toward Dean's forehead.

"Hey!" Dean caught Cas's hand before he could touch him to heal him, holding it at bay several inches from his face. Dean didn't have much of a grip, given that the hand he'd used had been covering an open wound a moment ago, but Cas stopped. "Don't waste your grace, Cas."

"Dean, you're losing blood."

"So what else is new? I'll be fine, just need..." Dean glanced around the kitchen, trying not to move. Out of the corner of his eye he spied an industrial-sized roll of plastic wrap bolted to the end of the counter he was currently resting against. "There we go, grab me some plastic wrap and some paper towels. That'll hold me until we get back to the bunker."

Cas looked skeptical but nodded, pulling his hand free of Dean's and rising. Dean shut his eyes in pure exhaustion and tipped his head back, resting it against the cabinets while he gathered his strength. He'd wrap the wound, they'd get back in the Impala (assuming it could still run) and head back to the bunker where he would have an extended shower. And a nap.

Somewhat distracted by this pleasant fantasy, he realized it had been a little while since he'd stopped hearing the rustling of the plastic wrap, and Cas still wasn't back at his side.

"Cas, did a demon get you?" he asked, not opening his eyes.

"Dean, I-" Cas cut off abruptly and Dean opened his eyes, suddenly alarmed. Had Cas been wounded in some major way that Dean had missed? Was one of the demons not as dead as they'd thought? Ignoring the sheets of white-hot pain that burst from his arm, he lurched to his feet and whirled, not sure what threat he was expecting to find.

Whatever he thought might be the problem, though, it certainly wasn't _this_.

The plastic wrap had utterly defeated Castiel. He had somehow managed to get a wide sheet of it wrapped around himself, pinning his arms to his chest, where he was still clutching the free end. The other end was still attached to the industrial-sized roll on the counter, but had gotten twisted so that it wouldn't tear properly on the metal teeth. Cas had one foot up and braced against the edge of the counter near the roll to try and give himself the leverage he needed to tear free without simply unraveling the rest of the plastic wrap. He had frozen that way when Dean stood and was now regarding him with wide, serious eyes.

As Dean's eyebrows went up in disbelief, Cas slowly began to tilt to the side, hopped a little on one foot in a vain attempt to stay upright, then overbalanced completely, falling to the floor with a thud and the slow flutter of a newly unraveled (but still attached) length of plastic wrap.

Dean tried not to laugh. But when he rounded the counter to help Cas up and saw him simply lying there cocooned in plastic and staring at the ceiling in perplexity, with the extra length unrolled by his fall slowly settling over his face, Dean lost it. He sank to the floor beside Cas outright cackling despite the pain in his arm.

"Dean, this... this isn't funny," Cas protested.

"No, it definitely is," Dean said, catching his breath. "Hang on, here." He leaned over and pulled the plastic away from Cas's face. It had settled loosely, but the guy who could trap himself in plastic wrap could probably manage to suffocate himself, too.

"Thank you," Cas said. "Now, if you'll cut me free, I'll wrap your arm."

"Think I might be better off doing that myself," Dean said, wiping his angel blade on his jeans to clean it. Then he hauled himself to his feet once more and sliced off the end of Cas's cocoon that was still attached to the roll on the counter. He cut it again to free a decent sized square from the excess Cas had unraveled, wadded up some paper towels, and wrapped his arm easily and efficiently while Cas looked on from the floor.

When he was done, he spun the angel blade in his hand and turned his attention to Cas.

"How did you even manage this?" he asked.

"I attempted to pull a suitable length from the roll. When it wouldn't separate, I turned to try and cut it at an angle, but when that didn't work - you're laughing at me again."

"With you, Cas. Laughing _with_ you."

"But I'm not-"

"Ok, hold still, I'll get you out." Dean knelt over Cas and raised the angel blade, having determined that slicing would be faster than unwrapping. Castiel tensed almost imperceptibly - but Dean noticed. "Still don't trust me, huh?" he said with a joyless, bitter smile.

"You were a demon three days ago, Dean. You worked for Crowley, you tried to kill Sam, and now I'm helpless while you're leaning over me holding one of the few things that can kill me..."

"Ok, I get it," Dean muttered, leaning back. "We'll just unwrap you."

"Shut up, Dean," Cas demanded. Dean looked at him in surprise. "And let me finish. All of what I said is true... and I _still_ trust you. If I didn't, if I truly thought you were a threat, do you think I would hesitate to use a modicum of my power to burn the life out of you before you could harm me?"

"Gee, Cas, you always know just what to say," Dean said, though if his tone was sarcastic it was only to hide how much the sentiment relieved him.

"Does that mean you'll help me get out of this ridiculous mess?"

"Yeah, yeah. You're bossy for a burrito." Dean placed one hand on Cas's chest to steady himself as he gently sliced his way through the plastic wrap. "Though be honest: You like me way too much to smite me," he said with a little lopsided grin.

"It would be a last resort, and I would regret the necessity," Cas allowed as the plastic wrap split easily, freeing his arms.

"That's so sweet." Dean helped him pick away the remaining layers of plastic and was even good enough not to laugh when Cas started flapping his hands around in a vain attempt to shake loose a few staticky scraps. "So tell me, then, Cas, if all that nice trust stuff is really true, why do you get so tense when I get close?" Dean asked, stepping abruptly into Cas's personal space, holding the angel blade loosely in one hand.

Cas directed his attention away from the last scraps of plastic and met Dean's eyes steadily, to the casual eye as unperturbed by the proximity as he ever was. But Dean was looking for it now and noticed dilated eyes, a slight hitch in his breath. Something to do with Cas feeling vulnerable due to his lack of grace, maybe? Whatever it was, Cas was aware of it too.

"This... is not an aggressive reaction, Dean. Or a fearful one," Cas said.

"Well, what then?"

Cas moistened his lips, at a loss for words and apparently hoping to find them behind Dean's eyes. "Nothing," he said finally, stepping back and turning from Dean. "We should go. Sam will be wondering what happened, and I believe you wanted a shower." He began picking his way through the rubble toward the kitchen door.

"Yeah, that'll be - wait. Did I say that out loud?"

Cas threw a quick look over his shoulder back at Dean, eyes wide, then hastened through the door.

"I didn't, did I? I'm _sure_ I didn't..." Dean said to himself, following Cas. He let the matter drop though, quickly engrossed in digging out the Impala as much as possible before attempting to start her up (purred to life on the first try, aw _yes_ ) and back her out of the ruined drive-in.

Cas seemed content to ride in silence back to the bunker, though, leaving Dean to sneak thoughtful glances at him out of the corner of his eye as he put a few things together.

 

*

 

Sam glanced up when Cas and Dean walked into the library from the garage, then did a double take.

"So, no groceries," he surmised, taking in Dean's makeshift bandage, the pair's general battered state, and... "Is that... plastic wrap?" Sam asked, reaching out and plucking a scrap of it from Cas's hair. Dean burst out laughing.

"Yes," Cas snapped, snatching the plastic back from Sam and shoving it in his coat pocket.

"O...kay," Sam said. "Who wants to start?"

"Cas does," Dean said. "He can fill you in while I," Dean paused with an odd look at Castiel that seemed to confuse the angel as much as it did Sam. " _I_ will be taking a long, hot shower." With that, Dean sauntered - sauntered! - away, whistling.

Sam turned to Cas, eyebrows making a slow ascent upward. "Oh, I can't wait to hear this."

Cas shook his head, his furrowed brow telling Sam that he didn't know what to make of Dean's odd behavior either. "It was an ambush, of sorts. We were attacked by-" Cas stopped abruptly, head turning toward the doorway Dean had just left through, the one that lead to the Men of Letters' living quarters.

"Cas? Earth to Cas?" Sam said, waving a hand for his attention.

"Oh - yes," Cas said, sounding distracted. He turned back toward Sam, putting the doorway firmly at his back. "We were attacked by demons. On... roller-skates..." He trailed off again, gaze sliding once more over his shoulder. Toward the showers.

"And _why_ were the demons on roller-skates? Cas?"

Cas's attention snapped back to Sam, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. "We had stopped for food at a drive-in."

"A drive-in? You guys were supposed to be getting groceries," Sam pointed out.

"I did try to explain that, but Dean-" Here Cas's gaze darted again toward the living quarters and back and Sam could tell he was having to force himself not to look that way. " _Dean_ ," Cas continued through gritted teeth. "Insisted. We fought off the-" Cas's head snapped back toward the showers, eyes wide, a blush blooming suddenly across his cheeks to Sam's immense confusion.

"Cas? Are you worried about Dean?" he asked, concerned.

"No. No, he knows _exactly_ what he's doing," Cas growled, and he stalked out of the room the same way Dean had gone without even a glance backward, leaving Sam baffled in the library.

It wasn't until later, when Sam found a trail of small puddles and not one, but two towels leading from the shower to Dean's door, that he realized what had happened. And then he went to his own room, shut the door, put on a pair of headphones for good measure, and slept the satisfied sleep of someone whose plans have finally come to fruition.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I guess you could say Cas was keeping his feelings for Dean... under wraps! :D
> 
> (Beta'd by the lovely [DragonSorceress22](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSorceress22/works), though I assume all responsibility for errors as her beta-reading powers may have been slightly compromised by not being able to breathe due to laughter. Sorry.)


End file.
